


Denial

by halobolts



Category: Little Shop of Horrors - All Media Types
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Seymour Fucks a Plant and That is Made Fun Of Multiple Times, Slight Orin Romanticizing, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halobolts/pseuds/halobolts
Summary: Twoey is bored. In the shop. With Seymour. Alone.Naturally, nothing good happens.





	Denial

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry lsoh fandom but i had to write this. it was important. i feel as bad as you do if not worse.

Seymour had the shop to himself for the lunch hour. Mr. Mushnik had tossed him the keys to the register and told him that he was going out for lunch and that he was to “take care of the Audrey 2 and count the receipts with Audrey 1.” He had accompanied this order with a wink, leaving Seymour to wonder whether he was trying to fix him and Audrey up.

 

Of course, Audrey hadn’t stayed in the shop for much longer. Orin “Jerkass” Scrivello had shown up, as usual. He had bought a bouquet of irises, leering at Seymour over the counter, and then asked/ordered Audrey to go out with him. (“Go out with me,” in Orin’s world, meant banging in a dingy alleyway. Seymour was aware of  _ that _ much.) While Audrey grabbed her purse, Orin had watched Seymour arrange the irises, coughing the word “faggot.”

 

On their way out, Audrey had chirped her usual “bye, Seymour!” Orin had said, in an uncharacteristically jovial tone, “See ya, Seymour. Maybe someday you can come out with me and Audrey. We’ll show you a good time.” He had punctuated this with a large grin, flashing braces-laden teeth, before pushing the front door open, Audrey in tow. Seymour wasn’t sure what Orin had meant by that, but he was fairly sure that he was not going to go out with Orin, Audrey be damned.

 

So now it was just him and Twoey, alone in the shop. Seymour had finished his bologna and cheese sandwich ages ago (Twoey had stolen most of the bologna), and so now there wasn’t much to do except count receipts, cater to a needy sentient plant, and watch the minutes of the lunch hour tick by.

 

“I’m bored,” groaned Twoey, draping vines over the counter. “Let’s do something.”

 

“I’m bored, too,” said Seymour, putting down his papers. “But there isn’t anything  _ to  _ do.”

 

Twoey quirked its bud in something akin to a smirk. “We could go out on the town. Meet some babes. Tool around on a Harley machine.”

 

Seymour sighed. “No. We’ve been over this. I cannot bring a talking plant out on the town. It would be super weird. Besides, Mr. Mushnik trusts me to keep the shop safe, and I can’t let him down.”

 

“Spoilsport,” sighed Twoey. Its vines slumped.

 

“Well, fine, Mr. Judgey,” snapped Seymour. “Why don’t you suggest something? What can we do that doesn’t involve leaving the shop.”

 

“Oh, I can think of something,” said Twoey, in a growl. One of his vines wrapped around Seymour’s wrist.

 

Seymour made a sound of protest and shook the vine off. “Not that, idiot. God, you’re a plant.”

 

“Don’t see what that has to do with anything,” said Twoey.

 

“It has a great deal to do with why I won’t  _ sleep with a flytrap _ ,” muttered Seymour.

 

“Wait, no, I know the real reason,” Twoey exclaimed. “You want Orin to be your first!”

 

“What?” yelped Seymour.

 

“Yes, it’s all coming together now,” mused Twoey. “You want him to walk in here--”

 

“Shut up!” cried Seymour, covering his ears with his hands.

 

“--kiss you with that metal mouth--”

 

“I’m warning you!”

 

“--and then fuck you up against the counter of the flower shop,” Twoey finished smugly.

 

Seymour seethed. “Listen, you...you...dickweed!”

 

“Ouch,” Twoey said calmly. “Plant-based insults, that’s a new one. I’m not wrong, though, am I?”

 

Seymour said nothing.

 

“Thought so,” said Twoey. “God, you’d let Orin bend you over a table in a heartbeat, and yet not me? Wow, that stings.”

 

Seymour furrowed his brow. “Well, for one, Orin isn’t a plant. Secondly, I would not let Orin...um…”

 

“Fuck you?” supplied Twoey.

 

Seymour looked away. “Whatever. Point is, he’s an abusive asshole and I know better.”

 

“But your dick doesn’t,” wheedled Twoey.

 

“I’m surprised you even know what a dick is,” said Seymour.

 

“I know all about that stuff, baby,” said Twoey with a snort. “But getting back to the point, I bet if you walked up to Orin at any time and said, ‘Orin, I want you to have your way with me right now, however you want,’ you know what he’d do?”

 

Seymour shook his head mutely.

 

“He’d say, ‘Damn right you want me, babe,’ and stick you on the back of his motorcycle, and drive off into the sunset with you. And then he’d fuck you over the seat of his motorcycle once you two reached the sunset. Without lube.”

 

Seymour shivered, stared down at his lap, and shook his head. “Well, you got me,” he said. “Now I’m turned on.”

 

One of Twoey’s vines reached out, again, to snake around Seymour’s wrist. “I can help you with that.”

 

This time, Seymour did not shake the vine off. “Have I really sunk this low?” he murmured to himself.

 

This made Twoey laugh, as another vine reached into Seymour’s pants. “Baby, you sunk this low the day you decided you were into Orin Scrivello.”

 

Seymour whimpered, although it was hard to tell whether it was from the comment or from the plant’s vine stroking his cock. “I’m not fucked up.”

 

“And yet, you’re letting a plant jerk you off.”

 

Whatever witty remark Seymour was about to make was swallowed by a moan as Twoey teased the head of his dick. “Stop--stop teasing,” he said.

 

“Would you let Orin tease you?” pressed Twoey, continuing to tease him. “Would you let him  touch you like this, lightly yet firmly? Would you let him lead you closer and closer to the edge of paradise, but not quite let you get off, like the sadist he is? Would you let him?”

 

Seymour was a mess. “Twoey--ahh--um--I’m gonna--”

 

“You’re gonna? Gonna what, baby?”

 

“Gonna come,” Seymour whimpered. “Can I?”

 

“Well,” hummed Twoey. “Can I hear the magic word first?”

 

“Please,” gasped Seymour, tears in his eyes. “Please let me come.”

 

“Go for it, baby,” said Twoey, stroking him, hard.

 

Seymour gasped, riding out his orgasm. He did not call anyone’s name out. Twoey let him be.

When Seymour was quite finished, Twoey withdrew his vines. Seymour put his head in his hands.

 

“Oh god,” he said, “What have I done.”

 

“I mean, you didn’t do much,” said Twoey. “Other than gasp and cry and shit.”

 

Seymour glared at him. “You know that’s not what I--”

 

The bell on the door clanged as the door pushed open. Seymour sat up straight and Twoey closed its bud.

 

“Yo!” shouted Orin Scrivello, DDS, barging into the shop. He was alone.

 

“Where’s Audrey?” asked Seymour suspiciously.

 

Orin waved him off. “She’s fine. She’s in our makeout spot. I just forgot my handcuffs here, so I had to come back.”

 

“Oh,” Seymour said, dully. He felt guilty for jumping to conclusions.

 

“I’m not a serial killer, Seymour, don’t worry,” said Orin with an easy smile. With a smile like that, it was almost possible to forget that he was a sadist. “Now, where are my handcuffs?” He leaned over the counter to look behind it.

 

Seymour followed his gaze, and with a sinking feeling remembered that he had just gotten jacked off by a flytrap, and thus had a big wet spot on the front of his pants. Orin, unfortunately, noticed.

 

“Woah,” he said, his handcuffs in his hand. “What have we here?” He pulled his gaze away from Seymour’s crotch to look him in the eye. Seymour could swear that his pupils were dialated. “Have you been jacking off in here?”

 

Seymour fidgeted, unsure of what to say in order to not embarrass himself further. “Um--”

 

Orin’s face split into a big grin. “Relax, Seymour. I won’t tell Audrey. This’ll be our little secret.” He clapped Seymour on the shoulder in a way that was clearly meant to be friendly, but just ended up being painful. 

 

Orin stood up, tucked the handcuffs into a pocket, and spun on his heel towards the door. “Your secret is safe with me. See ya, Seymour.” And then, he was gone, the bell clanging behind him.

 

The minute he was out of sight, Seymour put his face in his hands. “I fucking hate you,” he said to the plant.

 

“Yup,” Twoey said, “Orin is definitely gay for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> i ACTED in this play when i was ELEVEN i played the PLANT how could i do this to myself
> 
> leave comments and kudos telling me how i did


End file.
